Blake pursed his lips thoughtfully, trying to recall the trees he had seen on the estate. “That sounds like an oak tree.”
“Maybe. I do not know much about trees.” Quentin shrugged.
“Nor do I.” Emily was giving Blake a curious look.
Blake shrugged. As a boy, he had been particularly interested in the botanical world. Until his father had found out.
Do not think of that now.
He explained, “Oaks have rather distinctive leaves. If I draw the shape of their leaf in the dirt, perhaps you can tell me if that is what you saw.”
“But what about your clothes?” Emily asked, her eyes widening.
“I have others, and a little dirt will not be the end of the world.” Blake smiled and knelt beside Quentin, carefully drawing the shape of an oak in the dirt.
“Mother tells me off when I get dirt on my clothes,” Quentin said, peering over Blake’s shoulder at the shape.
“Mothers do that,” Blake agreed. “Does this look like the leaves you saw?”
“Yes!” Quentin clapped his hands excitedly.
“Excellent. I happen to know where a particularly large oak is, and that seems to be as good a place to start as any.” Blake stood up and beamed at Quentin.
“All right, shall we race?” Quentin’s eyes lit up as he hopped excitedly on his feet.
Blake forced himself not to laugh, seeing how excited the child was. “It does not seem like it would be a very fair race, as you do not know where you are going.”
“Oh. Yes, that makes sense.” Quentin looked slightly crestfallen.
“Why don’t you hold each of our hands, and we will swing you as we walk?” Emily suggested, shooting Blake a look.
“That sounds like fun,” Quentin agreed.
Blake allowed the small boy to slip a hand in his, swinging him between himself and Emily as they set off to find Quentin’s parents. While they walked, the small boy chattered happily, telling them about his mother, his favorite dog, and anything else under the sun.
For his part, Blake listened and nodded, not wanting to dampen the child’s zest for life. Eventually, they came to the old oak tree, and Blake spotted a harried-looking woman darting around, clearly looking for something.Or someone.
“Mother!” Quentin called excitedly, pulling his hands from Emily and Blake’s and sprinting towards the woman.
“Quentin!” the woman called back, looking relieved as she swept the small boy up into her arms. “Where on earth did you go? I told you not to go too far!”
“I am sorry, I got lost. But I met some friends who helped me find my way home.” Quentin gestured towards Emily and Blake, who were standing a short distance away from him.
“Thank you for returning my son. I am Lady Wilhemina Kensington. The Baron Kensington is my husband.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Kensington. I am Miss Emily Pembleton, third daughter of the Viscount Cotswalts.” Emily curtsied to Lady Kensington.
Blake smiled and bowed. “The Duke of Caden, at your service.”
“Duke? Oh, Quentin, have you been bothering a duke? I am so sorry, Your Grace. He… He is still young and does not know the way of things.” Lady Kensington flushed, shooting her son a horrified look.
Not wanting the boy to get in trouble, Blake said, “He has been no bother. In fact, he made what was threatening to be a rather dull morning into a far more interesting one.”
“Still, he must learn not to make a nuisance of himself.” Lady Kensington frowned at her son.
“I assure you, he was no nuisance. He is just a child full of excitement. It is a testament to your love for him that he is so full of hope. It should be cherished.” Blake’s voice was firm, though he tried to keep it pleasant, pushing out his childhood memories.
Propriety is all well and good, but what use is it if it strips a childhood of all joy?
